this is how it ends
by kanmuri
Summary: There's a little girl waiting in a garden.


Title: this is how it ends

Pairing/s: None, really

Disclaimer: Steven Moffat is responsible for any and all deaths caused by Doctor Who.

A/N: _lakjsldkjldfkgjldkfjglkdfjgl kdjfg n o nononoononO_

Summary: There's a little girl waiting in a garden.

* * *

_It's not fair_, he thinks. _It's not fair it's not fair it's not fair;_ but also, _they're together_, and maybe, _they're happy?_

It takes him weeks before he can summon up the strength to visit Amelia. And then there she is, her hair rustled and tangled by the wind, half-asleep against her suitcase. The soft cooing of the Tardis is what wakes her up, he thinks, or maybe it's the sound of the doors creaking open. Yawning, she blinks awake and rubs the sleep from her eyes.

And he can't take it, the way her entire face brightens, the red rose in her cheeks and the green of her eyes flashing gladly. It hurts, it's not fair, _it's not fair._

"Raggedy man!" she exclaims. She runs to him and he holds her tight.

He doesn't think she was expecting that, the hug. She definitely wasn't expecting the way he throws her up over his shoulders and her chest crashes into his. "Amelia Pond," he says, just to say it, just to taste the words on his tongue and feel them on his heart. "How would you like to go on an adventure?"

He really shouldn't, he _knows _he shouldn't, but her eyes are bright and wide so he sets her down and leads her into the Tardis, and she's grinning, and she's laughing and she doesn't even need to say _it's bigger on the inside _because she believed him the moment he said it, hundreds of years and 20 minutes ago.

He pulls some levers, pushes some buttons, and they're off, soaring and whooshing and crashing all over the place, like some dance and Amelia's laughter is the sweetest music.

"Where are we going?" Amelia is demanding, pulling at his pant leg. "Why are you wearing a bowtie? Are we going to the moon? Are we going to Ancient Rome?"

But he just smiles and says, "You'll see."

It's still dark when they come to a stop and Amelia shoves open the doors, ahead of him even though he warned her to wait. Abruptly, a cold sting of wind rushes through the Tardis.

"This isn't space," Amelia says. "Where are we?"

He follows her to just outside the Tardis, where she is scratching her head and frowning, her little lips pursed in a pout. There are trees stretching up into the night sky, and a small fence just in front of them. Brown grass shoots up all around their feet.

Reaching down, he ruffles her hair, and she ducks, scowling at him.

"Come with me," he says.

He picks her up, because he knows she'll run off otherwise, and she leans her head against his shoulder. She's tired, he can tell. She's been waiting all night for him, why shouldn't she be?

There's a house behind the fence. The door's locked, so he sonics it, and then they're walking inside, tip-toeing up the stairs. Blinking, Amelia lifts her head from his shoulder.

"Where are we?"

He sets her down. "Where do you think?"

Amelia's eyes dart around, back and forth, her small face bunching up in a glower. "This isn't space," she repeats. "This is – "

"Shh." He puts a hand over her mouth. "He's sleeping."

Because, see, they're standing just outside a bedroom, and the door is hanging open, wide open, so they have full view of the contents inside. The first thing he notices is the Winnie the Pooh nightlight, and the story-book on the dresser. There's a toybox at the edge of the bed with action figures and puzzles spilling out of it. And there, _there_, buried under the covers is a little tow-headed boy, eyes shut tight in sleep.

Amelia scowls at him, bites his hand. "This isn't space. This is just dumb old Rory's room," she hisses. "I come here everyday with Melody, and it's _boring._ What kind of adventure is this?"

The Doctor stares into the bedroom, at the beautiful little boy who would do anything, _anything_ at the little girl at his feet. The boy who'd wait 2,000 years, who would kill, who would die over and over again just to see her smile.

He stoops down. Takes her face in his hands.

"Amelia Pond," he tells her, "_t__his _is the greatest adventure you will ever have."

And then he's kneeling on the cool floor at her feet, and he's shaking, and he presses his lips to her forehead for the first and last and only time it will ever matter again. "_This _is your greatest adventure, Amelia," he repeats, and stares out at Rory, nestled in bed, and the little girl in his arms, the Ponds, _his_ Ponds, and he smiles because there's a light inside them that's fighting to get out, a light _they _put in him, a light from each and every great adventure they've ever had, even the ones without him.

"_He_ is your greatest adventure."

…_And you are mine._

* * *

_:finis:__  
_


End file.
